


Trust Me with Your Heart

by FujinoLover



Series: Harley and Ivy [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24524275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FujinoLover/pseuds/FujinoLover
Summary: P + H = loveOr: the soulmates AU no one asks for
Relationships: Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Poison Ivy/Harley Quinn
Series: Harley and Ivy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1824364
Comments: 10
Kudos: 238





	Trust Me with Your Heart

The day has been draining, to say the least. Pam groans when a knock on her door disturbs the silence she was wrapped in. She’s really not in the mood to move, let alone entertain any guest right now. She is more than glad to continue playing dead on the couch, if not for the knocking changes its pattern into _Spongebob Squarepants_ song. There is only one person who is ridiculous enough to do that and Pam drags herself to open the door.

“Hiya, Pammy!”

Pam smiles despite herself. Harley is bright like sunshine and she, the plant that seeks out to bask in her warmth. She invited her in and Harley bounces past her into the living room. Her purse is on the coffee table, heels strew under it, and suit blazer lies over the back of the couch—the only signs of her current messy mental state.

Harley doesn’t comment on the slight mess. Grinning at Pam, she raises the gallon of…milk? “I’m a recoverin’ addict,” she answers the questioning look Pam is giving her.

She was a _drug_ addict, no thanks to that joke of a man who was her ex-boyfriend. Pam doesn’t feel like going her way out to visit another friend in the rehabilitation center, so she takes out a tall glass for herself and a bowl for Harley without a word. She grabs the box of her favorite cereal as well and Harley claps her hands happily.

They settle on the breakfast bar, Pam nursing her half-full glass of milk while Harley slurps her now-colorful one after finishing off the floating artificially-sweetened cereals. Pam is too distracted with her own thought to ask whether the cereal constitutes as dinner for her best friend tonight. She won’t even come close to that box of chemicals if not for Harley’s preference for it. She’d just whip up something healthier for her later, once Harley gets on whatever reason she comes over.

“Sorry ‘bout your not-engagement,” Harley starts, straight to the point. “Harvey called, said you might need a friend.”

That explains Harley’s sudden appearance and her ensemble of t-shirt and nylon shorts, she was probably out on a jog when Harvey called her.

Silence stretches for a long time before Pam says, “I turned him down, Harls.” She sighs. “I’m going to break up with him.”

“He said that too.” Harley nods, solemn. “C’mon Pammy, tell Doctor Quinzel all about it.”

That gets Pam to smile a little. It would be unethical for her to be her best friend’s patient, but then again, Harley’s license as a psychiatrist was revoked the moment she conducted a romantic relationship with her drug-addict patient—her so-called _mad love_ phase that got her kicked out of her job in Arkham Asylum and landed her in jail first and then, with the help of Selina, in rehab. Despite all the debacles, it doesn’t erase any of her knowledge in the psychology field.

Pam says, “I don’t even know exactly why.”

Their relationship is not ruined, per se. Pam rejected Harvey’s proposal, bullshitting that a marriage is not part of her plan right now. He understood and asked for some time apart. While neither of them had claimed it to be a break up, it’s so clear to her now that she has no vision of spending the rest of her life with him and that she would rather end their relationship now, rather than dragging it to death. The worse of all, she knows he will understand. She feels like the biggest super villain already, with green skin and poisonous touch that drives everyone away.

“Harvey is everything anyone could ever want in a partner.”

“Everything _your parents_ could ever want for _you_ ,” Harley amends.

Harley isn’t wrong, but neither is Pam. Harvey is handsome and kind. He is successful in his career, already on the right track to be Gotham’s next district attorney at such a young age. He is righteous, but not blinded by it. He isn’t ashamed of his sexuality, nor his split personality disorder. He goes with Pam to every rally she attends, holding up poster for the cause and yelling on the top of his lungs. He laughs and kisses the top of her head whenever she marvels on those facts and calls him a perfect specimen (he calls her his winning case in return). Even his name matches the elegant _H_ on Pam’s thigh.

“I thought he was my one,” Pam says, patting on her lap where she knows her soulmark is. “He has the right initial.”

Harley contemplates something for a whole minute before she surges forward for a kiss.

“What was that for?” Pam asks with a small laugh after they parted.

It’s not an uncommon happening between them. Harley is a very tactile person, showing her affections better through cuddles and kisses. Although ever since Pam and Harvey became exclusive two years ago, she hadn’t done more than cuddling with the redhead. Pam hasn’t really noticed that until just now. Like a dam breaking under a sudden flood, she glances at Harley’s lips, longing for another comfort kiss.

Instead of the expected _ya look sad_ and Harley following it up with either a proposal for trashy reality show marathon with tubs of ice cream or continuing their makeout session until they’re a tangle of giggling mess, she stares at Pam like she is looking at her for the first time.

“Pamela.”

Pam flinches, only her parents call her by her full name and it only happens whenever she’s in for an earful of scolding. “Yes, Peanut?”

“I’m Harleen,” Harley says, pointing at herself.

Her antic gets Pam chuckling. “I’m aware,” she says.

“No, no. You ain’t gettin’ it. You’re Pamela—” Pam nods at that, still not getting whatever her best friend is trying to say, but she knows she just needs to be patient because sometimes it’s hard for Harley to articulate her thought properly “—I’m Harleen. See?” She’s pointing at the _P + H_ in a heart that’s tattooed on her left thigh.

Pam’s eyes harden and she barely hides her scowl. “You got that for your precious Puddin’, Harls.”

Harley is confused, until it hits her that she has many tattoos and for all Pam knows, her soulmark is the big _J_ on her upper right arm. It’s not.

“I didn’t. Well, I did. Added the H and the plus and the heart, but the P’s been with me since birth.” With low voice and glazed eyes, as though she’s talking to herself, she adds, “Called him Puddin’ to match my mark.”

Pam is still not getting it. “And?”

“You have an H on your thigh!” Harley says, laughing in a way that’s almost hysterical with incredulousness and annoyance. “Pamela!” She jabs a finger on Pam’s chest and then at herself. “Harleen!”

Finally, it clicks for Pam. “You think—”

Harley grabs on Pam’s hand and shoves it onto her chest, right on her left breast. They help each other measuring bra sizes and choosing the right bikini top, all of which requires some chest groping. They are too used to it for it to be awkward. Pam knows Harley is sensitive there, but fondling doesn’t seem to be what her best friend has in mind.

“Can ya feel it?”

Pam squeezes, brows knit together even as Harley leans into her touch. “It’s very nice,” she says. “Fits perfectly in my hand.” Suddenly she narrows her eyes, jaws set in anger. “Don’t trust any dumbass who says they are too small.” Harley’s piece of shit ex used to complain about that, ruining her self esteem to the ground. Pam will not stand with any of it. To mark her point, she gives another squeeze. “You have a beautiful body, Harls. I like you just the way you are.”

Harley giggles at her clueless best friend. “Not my tit, Pammy. My heart,” she says. “Though with words like that, you gonna get every girl droppin’ her panties for ya.”

“Just stating the truth,” Pam grumbles. She presses harder, counts for the whole twenty seconds, and comes up with almost 150 heart beats per minute. It’s quite high, but then again, “You were jogging.”

“Over half an hour ago!” Harley groans. “You know what, let’s try this.” She takes Pam’s hand off her chest and holds onto it between them, all the while locking her eyes on the emerald ones in front of her. “Doctor Pamela Lillian Isley, will you marry me?”

There is no rare _Rafflesia arnoldii_ specimen sent to Pam’s workplace in Gotham City’s Greenhouse and Plant Preserve. No diamond ring placed strategically on the soil for her to immediately discover. Harley doesn’t get on one knee. Her face is free of its usual heavy makeup, making her seems unnaturally paler than usual. One of her pigtails is crooked. Her t-shirt is more of a crop top with tattered hem and there is a spot of spilled milk on her shorts. The remnant of sweat clings on her tattoo-littered skin. A failed psychiatrist and a former drug addict with rap sheet. She is everything Pam’s parents would _never_ want for her and yet Pam still thinks she’s the best person she has ever known.

“Of course I will,” Pam answers without a thought, like it’s obvious. She stops, blinks in confusion, but doesn’t backtrack on it. “What…”

Harley is grinning so wide like a deranged clown. “There is your answer.”

Pam downs the remnant of her milk. In the span of less than six hours, she was proposed, rejected said proposal, planned to break-up with her boyfriend of two years, proposed again by her best friend, who is also might be her soulmate.

“When did you find out?”

“Few years back. After ya bailed me outta jail.” Harley shifts, shrugging a little. Their first kiss happened then. They hooked up twice afterwards, which is probably when Harley saw the _H_ on Pam’s thigh, but she was an addict then too. “When I got my shits together, you’re already with Harvey.” The statement heavily implies that Harley would have kept her mouth shut forever if that ship had sailed smoothly.

“What should I do…” Pam mumbles, face in her hands.

It’s a rhetorical question, Harley knows, but it doesn’t stop her from quipping an excited _let’s get married!_

Pam looks up so fast at her direction, scowling when she sees Harley laughing at her.

“I’m kiddin’, Red. Just kidding.” She raises both hands in surrender as Pam continues to glare at her. “It’s your call.” She reaches over the small space between them again, interlocking their fingers together. “You gotta do you—” she snickers at her wording and Pam rolls her eyes “—I’m still gonna be your best friend. But maybe…” She tries to retrieve her hand away, but to no avail. “I trust you with my life.”

Harley really does. Pam is still her emergency contact and also her court-approved legal guardian since she has no family left. They had it done a long time ago, back when she was still dating that useless meatsack. So in the case of her being in septic shock or brain dead or something as grave, Pam will be the one who decides to cut off an infected limb or when to take out the plug on her life support and let her die peacefully.

After that one time Pam and Selina found Harley on her kitchen floor, unconscious, with foam on the corner of her mouth and a needle stuck on her arm and neither of them were allowed to see her in the ICU, she understands why the legal binding is necessary. Still, she hates Harley a little for it.

“I trust you with my life,” Harley repeats. Blue searches for green until they find each other. “Maybe someday, you can trust me with your heart?” She smiles, ducking her head shyly.

Something inside Pam’s chest clenches, like she’s having a heart attack, from how adorable Harley is. _I already do_ , but she isn’t ready for that yet, so instead she says, “I’ll try.”


End file.
